


Reckless

by Hopeful_Foolx



Series: Whumptober 2019 [13]
Category: Kingsman (Movies), Men in Black (Movies)
Genre: Adrenaline., Agent Bediviere, Agent C also works for Kingsman, Angst, Blood, Hurt/Comfort, I promise there is fluff!, I stole him from MIB, I'm sorry I don't know how to explain, Ilon Leavy is a kingsman agent, M/M, Please read, Read the notes please, This ship was born from an RPG, Whump, Whumptober 2019, this is kind of a crossover, this is wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 22:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeful_Foolx/pseuds/Hopeful_Foolx
Summary: It's a bomb that quite literally blew up Leavys day, but hey. It's not that bad, is it? Until it is this bad.





	Reckless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JamesLancelot82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesLancelot82/gifts).

> This one is a gift for JamesLancelot82, taking place in our RPG (or like, kind of), a scene between Agent C (yes, the one from MIB : International) and one of my favorite OCs, Agent Ilon Leavy, Leav for short, currently working for Kingsman as Bediviere. All else you need to know is, that Leav is reckless and stupid and adorable. He’s from my network-universe, and I might share some stories with him here if anyone is interested. Haven’t yet. Also, he makes a very special kind of coffee, I can share the ingredients xD

If you asked Ilon Leavy, the day began great. Back in his flat with coffee with too much sugar and milk and every spice he found available in his kitchen. Bút the morning sadly didn’t speak for the day, as he was really sure that he should have known. It wasn’t that he underestimated the day, it was more that he wasn’t sure why exactly he had to jinx it. After all, he called it a good day and now he was trying to get people out of a really nice and sadly comfortable cafe, before it could get blown to pieces by… whoever. He had to remind himself to never trust any informant again, at least not if they still pretended to be loyal after he left the MI6.

The thing was, actually, he was not even scared by the fact that there was a bomb in the kitchen. It wasn’t… too bad. He could deal with a bomb, he had dealt with them before, but he was upset about something that really shouldn’t be bothering him too much. Like the fact that, because of this, he couldn’t get C his coffee this morning like he promised. Or that he wouldn’t get the damn chocolate the waitress dropped on him out of his favorite tie in centuries. 

All perfect reasons to be upset about, and he was, just at the wrong time. Disarming a bomb was also concerning and a perfectly good reason for being upset. Everything was. But shifting his focus to only the bomb was… not quite easy, and he hated it a bit. Merlin in his ear kept quiet, some sounds of his keyboard the only noise if. He hated the silence, it gave his thoughts too much room. But it was a bit too late to ask for music, and also, yes, the bomb. Stupid thing. Blue cables, and red ones, and black ones too. And so damn many. Explosives were not what he liked, but with Percival and Lancelot, experts on explosives though for wildly different reasons out of the country and signal range right now, he was the only one close enough. It still left Merlin, of course, but HQ was too far out as for him to just walk in. 

That the bomb did get off was entirely not his fault. In the end and for lack of better options he cut all the cables and ran. It wasn’t the best option, but the best at the time, or so he was convinced for the minute before he felt himself getting caught in the shockwave and flung into a wall. He tried to catch himself, arms forward, but given that he woke up to grey air, pain in every muscle and a few lost flames, none of his ideas today were successful. Pity. 

Even though he was sure his eardrums were torn and his legs would give out any minute, the police cars and ambulance were a good motivator. A perfect end to a perfect day would mean ending in a cell or a hospital bed, and hell, if C found out he would be upset and an upset C was… not what he preferred most days. Never, to be honest. C was better when he was calm, and seeing C was the next motivation that sent him running off, limping against the strange feeling in his side. Maybe a broken rib, but it didn’t hurt too much, so it was probably fine.

There were gaps in his way back to HQ. Maybe it was his head, or his arms, or the dizzyness he couldn’t place, but he was missing bits and pieces. How he got out of London was a mess of blurry lines and backalleys, not easy in daylight. He remembered finding out his comms were dead and his glasses too cracked for more than a gps signal he could send out, and this should have been enough to not make C too upset. 

Wrong idea. 

He barely set foot in the entrance hall when...

“Oh my god, Leav, Leavy, there you are, what happened, we were worried, I was- oh you look  _ awful _ !” ...it was C running towards him, glasses dirty and hair tousled, the way it was when he ran his hand through it too often. The way it made his curls stick out enough to notice. The way he loved it, but C… didn’t, really. Not his hair was wrong, and his face so tight, so… worried.

“Sorry, I-” He tried to smile and shrug, anything to soften the lines on Charles’ face. “But I’m fine, Cheez. Bruised, but fine.” He swallowed and tasted ash, his tongue… wrong. It felt thick and heavy. Everything felt a bit heavier than it should suddenly. And moved a bit too much around him. 

“Leav, there is blood, is that yours?” Blood? No, he should have noticed that. Maybe it took him a moment too long to notice, because Charles’ hands were on his shoulders suddenly, steadying him. Why did he need this? Was he… unsteady? Why? And blood, no, there were no other people involved as far as he knew, it shouldn’t… Leavy looked down. There was indeed blood on his hand. And his shirt, actually. The jacket was too black, but… wet. Was it raining? 

He kept his eyes from the moving floor that made his stomach turn and pried the cloth away. 

“Oh.” 

It was all he could say before his knees gave out at the sight of the piece of metal that was sticking out of his side. He noted that the feeling was concerning but weirdly amusing, from bone to jelly to nothing, and he didn’t even fall, as the hands on his shoulders moved and he was lowered to the floor. Silently. Or no, not silent, actually. He just… Didn’t hear Charles. Or was he just… A buzzing as if he walked into a beesnest surrounded him now. He did walk into one once, but he was a child back then. It had sounded like this, just more aggressive. And he couldn’t see bees, only Charles, and he looked concerningly dark and with too many black dots in his face. 

“You… need to talk ‘ouder, ‘arles…” he slurred together, or he hoped he did as he currently couldn’t hear his own voice over the loud buzzing in his ears. Maybe if he closed… 

A slap in the face made him open his eyes again, now sharp and there. Charles above him, one hand on his shoulder, the other one not visible. 

“You better stay with me here, Leav. Look at me, okay? Just… Look at me. Eyes on me, just like that. You don’t close them. I won’t allow it.” He tried to smile again, but the muscles in his face were no big fans of the idea. 

“If you die on me here, I swear to god I will find you, drag you back to kill you personally!” An empty threat, his brain provided unhelpfully, as C had never killed a man before. But nice nontheless. 

“Medics are on the way, you’re okay, you hear me?” He just looked up.  _ you have really beautiful eyes. I should have noticed that. How did I not notice that?  _

Someone else arrived, someone who wasn’t Charles was talking to him but he kept his eyes on his eyes. He couldn’t look away. Maybe this was the last good look he could get? Why would he look away? He wanted to keep his eyes open for as long as possible. Just like that. Staring. Not stopping, hopefully. 

But he closed them tightly when the pain in his side erupted like it was torn open yet again, and he screamed before the world went black.

\------------------------------

The first thing he realized was smell. The smell of cinnamon, vanilla, cloves - caramel, but only faintly. Exactly how his kitchen smelled every morning since he decided that C was worth the trouble. Was he in his kitchen? Did he fell asleep there? No, he had exactly one chair in there and it wasn’t this… comfy. It was cold in there. Also, cold, nice thought. And C. Oh, yes. C. Blood on his hands, the explosion, winter in london and he ran until he ran into C-

The fog in his head cleared at least enough to try out a sentence. 

“That is… How’d you make… my coffee?” By any means, talking was a bad idea. His throat hurt, his mouth did taste like ash and there was a faint throbbing in his side he couldn’t quite place. No real pain, only the memory of it. He wasn’t sure if the preferred this fog over the pain. Because he must be laying on a bed, other things were not that soft. And there was also a warm weight on his hand, that shifted as he talked. Tried to. Croaked, more of. 

“That is… That is the only thing you have to say for yourself?” He heard Charles huff out a breath as he himself tried to open his eyes. “Really?” 

“Yeah… actually…” He swallowed dryly and blinked. Thick lines blurred together in his line of sight, and it took a moment until he blinked them into focus, and a longer one until he turned his head in the direction of Charles’ voice, just to lift it off the pillow on second thought. He didn’t yet have the time to take stock of the situation, but he was sure it was the infirmary down in the cellar of the building. Also, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, or more than his trousers and socks that felt like they were made out of carton actually. If he wasn’t so sure that lifting his arms would put this conversation to an far too early end, he would have asked for a shirt right away, but the thick white dressing on his side convinced him that he was better off this way. He felt a needle in his hand. Yeah, pain medication and fluids. 

He lay his head back down onto the pillow and closed his eyes once more. This bit of movement made him dizzy again, made the world shift and so he shifted his focus to C once more. He looked… Tired. His usually straight tie was gone and this definetely wasn’t the shirt he was wearing this morning. Also, he was clutching his cup with white fingers, as pale as his face was right now. But keeping his head turned like that wasn’t comfortable, and he really needed to concentrate for it. Weird. 

“I should inform you that I am…” He looked down at his cup and back up to Leavy again. “as you would call it, pissed.” Oh, this wasn’t a good sign. Pissed meant that it was close.

“How long was I out?” C sighed and he could hear him swallow. Shit.

“Four hours, twentynine minutes.” Oh. Indeed close then, if he counted the minutes and also drank coffee. Not good. It would need more than just a few flowers to fix this mess. He tried to shift a bit, but as soon as he moved his arms he felt them protesting and groaned, making C nearly jump off his chair. 

“I certainly hope you are not thinking about getting up.” C was next to him in an instant. He put his cup away and Leav was confused how he got that blanket, but he was draping it over him now.

“No… Not a good idea. I just wanted to… Can’t see you well there. But even if you are pissed, I want so see your face if you are. And now I can.” 

“Leav, I-” 

“Yes, I know. I promised, but…” He trailed off, unsure how to proceed. C kept quiet for a moment too, until he swallowed and looked away.

“I had to clean your blood off my hands.” It was barely more than a whisper.

“So-” He was interrupted a moment later.

“No, no, you’re not sorry. Don’t be sorry. Not  _ now. _ ” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and Leavy remembered the how he had looked into these eyes until the pain made him pass out. “Be sorry later. Fix that later. Now, just… You will be fine. You…” 

“I will be fine. And I can’t promise not to get hurt, or blown up again, but I’ll try my best.” He reached out with the hand that still felt warm from the contact and felt Cs finger close around his own bruised knuckles.

“I would appreciate that very much, yes.” Another deep breath. “You lost a lot of blood, but they got a transfusion into you when they cut that thing out. You also broke a rib, have a concussion and a lot of bruises.” a pause. “And when I say a lot, I really mean  _ a lot _ .” 

“A canvas, huh?”

“Yes, Fred would love to paint you now. As usual.” C looked to the door before he moved his free hand to Leavys hair. It was a lot shorter now that he worked for the agency, but it was still the same red mess. 

“But not like this. Rest. Your head is thick but it can’t take everything, I’m afraid.” 

“Hmmhmmm…” The chuckle was not more than an intake of breath as C kept his hand in his hair. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and especially bearing with me here, seriously :D I'm also on Tumblr @its-percival-not-percy


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